


October prompts: Collapsed building

by theonetruenorth



Series: October writing prompts 2020 [4]
Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Accidents, M/M, October prompts 2020, Temporary Character Death, Whumptober
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-05
Updated: 2020-10-05
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:01:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26830330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theonetruenorth/pseuds/theonetruenorth
Summary: Nothing existed in the small space they were trapped in. Nothing but stale air, choking dust and darkness so thick he couldn’t see anything but blurry, shapeless shadows.
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Series: October writing prompts 2020 [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1948783
Comments: 11
Kudos: 170





	October prompts: Collapsed building

**Author's Note:**

> Not beta-read (yet).

It must have been _hours_ now, since it happened. 

Joe wasn’t even sure what time it was. Nothing existed in the small space they were trapped in. Nothing but stale air, choking dust and darkness so thick he couldn’t see anything but blurry, shapeless shadows. All he could hear were the groans of the building on top of him and the sound of blood bubbling on opened lips, desperately trying to catch breath that wouldn’t come.

It had been hours and the only measure of time Joe had were the dying gasps of the man beside him. One shuddery inhale when he woke, then a couple long moments of pained whimpers, then a dying wheeze once more. Over and over, the cycle continued and Joe could do nothing but wait and count the seconds between life and death.

“Stay with me.” Joe knew it was a futile effort, that no amount of begging could convince Nicky to breathe through ruined lungs. No matter how much he wished it, willpower alone was not enough, not when there was an inch thick rebar piercing through a body that desperately tried to heal itself and just _couldn’t_ , not while he was pinned down like this.

Nicky couldn’t even speak, could do anything but stay still and drown in his own blood, wound in his lungs unable to close over the metal. Joe held his hand, felt it grasp at him every time Nicky came back to life and then grow slack every time he died. He couldn’t pull him off the rebar, not when they were buried under broken concrete and metal with no way to move. 

Their lives were not infinite, Joe was very well aware of that. They all knew that there was a limit to how many times they could be revived, even if they didn’t know what the exact number was. And he had never felt greater terror than the moment he realized that it took longer and longer for Nicky to wake after each time he died.

By the time the others had found them and dug them out, Nicky had been gone for twenty minutes. He had not taken that long to wake ever since his first death.

There was no way to pull Nicky off the metal bar, so Joe looked away as Nile dragged him out of that cursed rubble, unable to look as Andy used her labrys to cut through Nicky’s side, freeing him that way. His own leg, the one that was crushed under some fallen concrete, was already healing. 

Nicky was not.

“Please.” Sitting in the backseat of a car, cradling Nicky’s weight in his arms, Joe muttered quiet prayers to anyone who would listen - to Allah, to God, or any other deity willing to help. “It is not your time yet. Nicolo, come back. Come back to me.”

“How long has he been out?” Andy asked, catching his eye in the rearview mirror as she sped through the night to the nearest safehouse. Nile was looking at them, twisted sideways in the passenger seat, her hand grasping at Nicky’s thigh, anchoring herself through the fear Joe could see on her face.

“I don’t know,” he rasped, dust still clogging his throat. Half an hour, maybe. He wasn’t sure, he lost count when the cycle started to get longer and longer.

“How many times did he die?”

“I don’t know!” Joe closed his eyes, resting his forehead against Nicky’s. He was cold and unresponsive underneath his touch. Joe closed his hand over the gaping wound at his side where Andy cut him. It still had not healed and Joe suddenly felt as cold and numb as Nicky was. Like his own heart had stopped beating. “Please, my moon, wake up. You promised me forever. Don’t be so cruel to leave me alone now.”

He cried, tears rolling down his cheeks and into Nicky’s hair, tracing their paths through his dirty skin. He cradled Nicky’s head gently against his and he shook apart, not paying attention to anything else - Andy’s quiet cursing or Nile’s own tears.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity of torture, Joe could feel a faint trace of breath on his face and hear the tiny inhale next to his ear.

Tearing his gaze away from the still slack face, Joe raised his hand still clutching onto Nicky’s side and looked in amazement as the wound started to close. The progress was slow and sluggish, but it was healing. Nicky’s chest rose and fell slowly, even though he still wasn’t conscious.

“Thank you,” Joe cried into Nicky’s hair harder now, thankful to whomever listened to his prayers. “Thank you, thank you, _thank you_.”

It still took Nicky hours to actually wake.

He finally opened his eyes in their safehouse, lying on a bed and under soft, warm blankets. Joe was seated next to him, holding Nicky’s hand in both of his, pressing his lips against his knuckles. Curled a little on his side, Nicky blinked himself awake, slowly, trying to understand where he was.

“How long was I out?” he finally asked, after Joe had given him some water. “And why do I feel so weak?”

“It’s been almost half a day,” Joe said, running his hand through Nicky’s hair. He would need a shower. Joe did his best to clean him earlier, with soft cloth and warm water, infinitely gentle and patient, washing away blood and dust and grime. “And you died many times, my love. Many times in just a couple of hours. Your body couldn’t fix itself fast enough and it used a lot of energy trying to heal.”

Nicky’s hand slipped out of Joe’s grasp and raised itself, a little shakily, to cup Joe’s cheek. He smiled when Joe nuzzled into his touch.

“I’m sorry I scared you,” Nicky said and his words were almost enough to make Joe cry again. Nicky understood. _Of course_ Nicky understood.

“I won’t say that it’s okay.” Joe kissed the middle of his palm before cradling it against his face when Nicky’s arm started to tremble with effort. “Rest, Nico. After you sleep more I’ll bring you something to eat. Andy made some soup.” He paused. “No, actually, she made a _lot_ of soup. You know how she stress-cooks. We will all be drowning in soup before you know it.”

“I can think of worse ways to go,” Nicky chuckled as his eyes closed and he was out like a light. His body must have been exhausted.

“Me too, my love,” Joe whispered, leaning down to press his lips against Nicky’s forehead. “Me too.”


End file.
